Father Richard Rohr regards nondual thinking as an essential marker of a mentor.
At every stage of the journey, we long for mentors who are believable and reliable, but Western culture tends to create more elderly people than actual mentors who have something to teach us.
Many of us grow more rigid and opinionated as we age. We’re supposed to move from the dualistic thinking of young people to the nondual mind of experience and maturity. This is why, all things being equal, elders should be more skilled at patience, forgiveness, mercy, and compassion than teenagers. If we remain self-assured, self-righteous, self-seeking, dualistic thinkers, we cannot become bridge builders or agents of reconciliation—not even in our own families or neighborhoods.
Presently, too many of our religious leaders seem uninterested in true interfaith dialogue. Our politicians seem incapable of seeking the common good, committing instead to win/lose models. Those at the helm of financial sectors live on extravagant bonuses while much of the world goes hungry. Instead of moving away from dualistic thinking, the people who could have become mentors have used the system to become even more entrenched and dualistic instead. [1]
Father Richard names how mentors are called to support others in their “Real Work”:
A mentor is someone who companions and guides us through our Real Work, which is always going to be focused on the inside, not the outside. It’s nothaving the right religion, the right salary, the right house. Real Work is second-half-of-life work. As Jesus puts it, “Don’t clean the outside of a dish. I’m concerned about the inside” (see Matthew 23:25–29). The inside includes our attitudes, our intentions, our mind, our heart, why we’re really doing what we’re doing.
Real Work is always about you—not others. It’s saying, “My job is not to change other people. I’ve got to change.” Many people are obsessed with the former, but it’s not our job to get rid of the “bad people” in the world. That’s first stage religion, which is preoccupied with marginalizing the unworthy elements who always happen to be “people who are not like me.” It happens in every country, culture, group, and religion, because that’s the first half of life. When we don’t have a wisdom or mentoring culture, that remains the level of focus.
When we move to the level of soul, the externals are not as defining; roles, titles, costumes, age, and race are no longer the most important questions. Soul recognizes soul, and a mentor presents their own soul unapologetically: “I am what I am, warts and all. I’ve got some faults, but I know I’ve got some gifts too. I offer you my gifts and I hope my warts don’t get in the way of those gifts.” That’s the kind of honest mentor that we all want and that our civilizations need to lead us to the Real Work. [2]
Psalm 102: Worship is About Presence, Not Praise |
![]() ![]() ”Central to the book’s argument was that a church’s weekend gathering must always be a celebration. The guru’s research found most people (or at least the 1990s middle-class suburban households most likely to find a megachurch appealing) were looking for an escape from the difficulties of modern life, therefore the one hour in church should be a non-stop, cheerful, Jesus party of practical positivity. What about the traditional confession of sins? Gone. The Christian calendar’s observance of Ash Wednesday and Lent? No way. The Lord’s Table where we remember his death on the cross? Fuggetaboutit. (At least in the large gathering. He said the bread and cup could still be administered occasionally in smaller, less central church meetings where newcomers aren’t present.) According to the book, worship was synonymous with praise so anything that wasn’t cheerful simply wasn’t honoring to God or essential to his mission. I’m guessing the church growth guru never read Psalm 102—or many other parts of the Bible, for that matter. Like so many Psalms, this one provides an uncomfortably honest glimpse into the inner life of someone devoted to God. What we discover is far from celebratory. We see anguish, doubt, and even anger at God. Many psalms cry out to the Lord for help, and some even ask why he is slow to answer. But the writer of Psalm 102 takes it a big step further by directly blaming God for his agony. “For you have taken me up and thrown me aside” (verse 10). Speaking of God he says, “He broke my strength; he cut short my days” (verse 23).Why would such a brutal song be included in the worship book of ancient Israel? How can these aggressively negative, unhappy expressions be considered worshipful or honoring to God? Here are two thoughts.First, unlike the American church growth guru, the God revealed in the Bible values honesty far more than marketability. The Lord is not interested in people pretending to be happy, holy, or hyped. He desires to meet us where we really are—including in our misery, anguish, grief, and anger. Presence, not praise, is the true foundation of worship. That means presenting ourselves before God as we truly are, not as we think we ought to be.Second, while Psalm 102 is full of shocking honesty, including feelings of God’s abandonment and unfaithfulness, these sentiments are interrupted by declarations of God’s compassion, power, and future vindication. The chapter is a candid snapshot; a moment in one person’s very messy communion with God. It’s a jumble of volatile emotions and steadfast truths like shifting waves crashing on immovable rocks.I think that’s a better image for the church’s worship. Rather than a gathering of spiritual consumers looking for a boost of manufactured positivity, when we assemble on Sundays we enter like a rolling tide. People churning with fears, and failures, and gratitudes, and griefs. And together we fall upon the unshakable presence of divine love who welcomes us as we are. DAILY SCRIPTURE PSALM 102:1-28 WEEKLY PRAYER. Erasmus (1466 – 1536) Lord Jesus Christ, you said that you are the Way, the Truth, and the Life; let us never stray from you, who are the Way; nor distrust you, who are the Truth; nor rest in any other but you, who are the Life, beyond whom there is nothing to be desired either in heaven or on earth. We ask it for your name’s sake. Amen. Psalm 102[a] A prayer of an afflicted person who has grown weak and pours out a lament before the Lord. 1 Hear my prayer, Lord; let my cry for help come to you. 2 Do not hide your face from me when I am in distress. Turn your ear to me; when I call, answer me quickly. 3 For my days vanish like smoke; my bones burn like glowing embers. 4 My heart is blighted and withered like grass; I forget to eat my food. 5 In my distress I groan aloud and am reduced to skin and bones. 6 I am like a desert owl, like an owl among the ruins. 7 I lie awake; I have become like a bird alone on a roof. 8 All day long my enemies taunt me; those who rail against me use my name as a curse. 9 For I eat ashes as my food and mingle my drink with tears 10 because of your great wrath, for you have taken me up and thrown me aside. 11 My days are like the evening shadow; I wither away like grass. 12 But you, Lord, sit enthroned forever; your renown endures through all generations. 13 You will arise and have compassion on Zion, for it is time to show favor to her; the appointed time has come. 14 For her stones are dear to your servants; her very dust moves them to pity. 15 The nations will fear the name of the Lord, all the kings of the earth will revere your glory. 16 For the Lord will rebuild Zion and appear in his glory. 17 He will respond to the prayer of the destitute; he will not despise their plea. 18 Let this be written for a future generation, that a people not yet created may praise the Lord: 19 “The Lord looked down from his sanctuary on high, from heaven he viewed the earth, 20 to hear the groans of the prisoners and release those condemned to death.” 21 So the name of the Lord will be declared in Zion and his praise in Jerusalem 22 when the peoples and the kingdoms assemble to worship the Lord. 23 In the course of my life[b] he broke my strength; he cut short my days. 24 So I said: “Do not take me away, my God, in the midst of my days; your years go on through all generations. 25 In the beginning you laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. 26 They will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garment. Like clothing you will change them and they will be discarded. 27 But you remain the same, and your years will never end. 28 The children of your servants will live in your presence; their descendants will be established before you.” |